Trinkets and Things
by Endless Horizon
Summary: My life is full of romance... My own take on how Jack got all the beads and trinkets he wears in his hair. Sexual situations, JxOC.
1. Stories

A/N: Everyone's had their ideas on where Jack's trinkets come from, so I decided to put in my own take on things. I must give credit to Supertramp for the line "My life is full of romance." I heard it and Jack's face just popped into my mind and this story erupted from it. I must also thank Julie for beta'ing. Greatly appreciated.

**As for the rating – nothing is ever specific, but sexual situations are definitely implied. So if you are offended by adult situations, I would recommend you do not keep reading. **

**Next chapter is being written as you read. I will have it up soonsoonsoon! **

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"My life is full of romance…"

Jack knew that behind every woman there was a story. A story of how she got to where she was, why she was there, and how she planned to escape from it all. Every woman who graced Tortuga with her feminine gait had a tale waiting to be told and Jack was just waiting to hear it.

Throughout Jack's life, the women he'd met had wove many a good tale, each one captivating in its own way. All were told in desperation to explain why a woman was the way she was, but Jack didn't need a reason. So, in fascination he listened to their stories no matter where or how they spilled from their lips; some narrated in between bed sheets, recounted in a noisy tavern, those whispered or yelled, and those said with no words at all, recounted in a pair of troubled eyes. To the girls it didn't matter the way it was told, as long as it was told, as long as they found an escape. To them, Jack was their escape.

For one night they had someone who actually listened instead of the myriad of men who came only for themselves. And for this, he was well repaid. But when the morning came, Jack was nowhere to be found. But by no means were the girls and their stories forgotten. Some may call him a lover, or a romantic, _but above 'em all I'll always be a pirate_. So with peering eyes and straying hands a souvenir was found and the pirate was on his way.

"'Nother night, 'nother woman, 'nother tale." He smiled as he pocketed the trinket and slipped his shirt over a pair of lean, strong, and tan shoulders. His duty done, the damsel saved, for a night at least, he returned to his ship and his crew, his escape.

But Jack wasn't a brag, or at least, he put on a good act that he wasn't one. When asked by lovers about the trinkets and beads securely braided into his jet-black hair, for he figured that was the one secure place to keep such treasures, he never related their tales. He knew how to keep the integrity of a woman, well, as much integrity as a woman of Tortuga could have, at least. But men will be men, and Jack was as man as most of them, so if the topic was brought up in a noisy tavern somewhere, he was never shy to share.

And when he did tell the stories, he always started with her.


	2. The Trojan Horse

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. Life will be life and it tends to get in the way sometimes. But I haven't forgotten about this fic, not in the least, and the third chapter will be up soon, hopefully by this weekend. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one! **

_**CRESSIDA (CRISEYDE)**_

_Derived from Greek (chrysos) meaning "gold". Medieval legends describe her as a woman of Troy, daughter of Calchus, who leaves her Trojan lover Troilus for the Greek hero Diomedes._

"_Beauty, wit,_  
_High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,_  
_Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all_  
_To envious and calumniating time._  
_One touch of nature makes the whole world kin."_  
_-Troilus and Cressida by William Shakespeare_

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Some may have called the girl plain. Perhaps she hadn't been born with delicate high

cheekbones, ivory skin, and lush red lips, or maybe the rough and tumble of Tortuga had worn them away. But whatever the reason, there was something about her wild eyes and frail body that stood out in the coarse town built on over-indulgence. So Jack had sauntered over, eyes full of curiosity, a drink in each hand. _"Nother night, 'nother woman."_

"You look 'bout as lonely as me on this lovely ev'ning, so how 'bout we keep each other company?" His eyes met hers, those eyes, it as if they were searching for something, someone, desperate and dull but burning with unmatched ferocity.

"Why, how charming. Thank you." She took the cup he offered, and though the tone of her voice was pleasant and warm, there was something about her that made it seem like this exchange had happened too many times before for it to be truly sincere.

"Name's Jack, Jack Sparrow." He smiled, trying to coax something from the girl, but wasn't even sure himself what it was.

"Cressida." She took a sip of her drink and cocked her head to one side inquisitively, her act of interest almost convincing. "What brings you to Tortuga, Mr. Sparrow?"

"Jack." He corrected. "And I'm a pirate, love. For some, that's reason 'nuff right there."

A sincere smile spread over her face, and she laughed. In that single moment, all pretenses and acts were dropped, and Cressida sat before him a living, breathing, feeling woman. Jack reveled in the beauty the smile had cast upon her features and the light it had brought to her eyes. For the rest of the evening Jack vowed to himself that that smile would never leave her face.

And to his surprise, a smile was never really far from his face either. "Where it matters," Jack always tells, "Cressida had it were it matters. That girl had one hell of a personality."

The hours passed quickly as light faded into darkness and darkness into twilight. As men and women filtered out of the tavern door or crowded the steps leading to their rooms, Jack found his hand wound tightly in hers as she led him out into the night on a path TO her tiny rented apartment on the far side of town.

Cressida wasn't his first by any stretch of the imagination, but she was the first to tell Jack her story. In the early hours of the morning, when the earth is waiting for the sun to finally awaken and for life to start again, he listened to the words that spilled from her mouth as she rested her head upon his chest.

"Years ago, though it feels like a lifetime," she tells, "I lived up in the American colonies. My father was a very popular and wealthy merchant who traveled throughout the colonies seeking new and rare objects to sell in his shop. He provided a very good life for my mother and myself and for that I was always thankful.

I also was in love with a merchant from the local town, a good boy who made a decent living in my father's store and loved me in return. We had vowed to marry each other and live in my family manor. But we were just kids who expected life to turn out like the fairy tales. It never does, does it?"

Jack was silent; this was her story to tell.

"Anyway," she sighed, "above all things my father was known for being proud, so when the ship he was taking down to these islands was attacked and everyone was taken hostage, he bartered for his life and the life of his mistress to the captain of the pirate ship, them in return for me.

So I was forced to leave my home, my mother, and my love, for if I didn't abide by the arrangement, my father would be killed. What choice did I have? I was only a child.

At first I was terrified. The stories I'd heard of pirates didn't really give me the courage to close my eyes and sleep at night. But days passed and I slowly realized that I was falling in love with the pirate captain who had traded for my life. I don't know what was more terrifying, the fear of leaving my home or the fear of learning I loved a pirate. No offense, of course."

"None takin'."

"I don't know where I found the courage to tell the captain I loved him," she continued, "but somewhere I did. And to my relief he told me that he loved me, also. Through all the pain and betrayal I had been through, I finally felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps it would all turn out all right in the end. Now that seems like such a naïve thing to hang a hope on, for I was left here, in Tortuga, with the promise that he would return for me after one final raid.

Months passed and I had no news except that my love in the colonies had died of a broken heart. And though I was grief stricken by his death, I knew my captain was coming for me and we'd sail off into the sunset together, or some other thing equally as silly. It's been years and…" her voice trailed off, whether defeated by her grief or exhaustion, Jack didn't know, and he didn't venture to ask. He just let silence fill the room and waited. As warm tears fell upon his chest, he knew the answer. Without a word, he listened to her sobs and ran tanned fingers through her thick brown curls. Soon exhaustion claimed the girl and Cressida slipped into a deep slumber, tears still dripping from her cheeks. Tonight, Jack realized, was about more than playful flirting and self-satisfaction; it was about desperation and escape.

When the tears had finally stopped and Jack was sure that she was asleep and at peace, he slipped his thin body out from under her and moved to dress in the dim glow of the rising sun. The rays of light that peeked in through the window danced throughout the room; one beam landed on the small dresser in the corner and a dull sparkle caught Jack's eye. He moved towards it, _I am a pirate after all,_ to find a small bead lying there. He picked up the tiny treasure to examine it, the curiosity of a pirate taking over.

It was nothing fancy, only a simple bead cast out of glass and tinted a shade of orange. But if tonight had taught him anything, it was that nothing is as it appears, and Jack was pleasantly surprised to find that the inside of the bead was covered in a thin layer of gold that twinkled at him playfully. Like Cressida herself, the bead had nothing to note on the outside, but there was something about it that caught the eye and made one want to dig deeper, to find the gold, the treasure, that lay beneath.

Quietly he slipped the bead into his jacket pocket and turned to the slumbering girl tangled in the sheets. In her own way she was a Trojan horse. The outside a façade of smiles and pleasantries, all silk dresses and curled lashes, but the inside was filled with nothing but hidden troubles and sadness, a cynicism that reality built and molded into perfect form.

"You'll find 'im, love." He whispered to her sleeping form. "One day in the crowds of that tavern he'll come." He gave a quaint bow and closed the door behind his exiting figure.

For a brief moment, Jack had thought about staying with the girl, he really had; her story broke had simply broken his hardened heart straight down the center. In a way he felt that one pirate might be obligated to make up for the mistakes of another. But as his mind argued with itself over his departure he knew that he was not the pirate captain she was awaiting to come and save her. And ultimately, a man built on motion, the wind in his hair and the sea under his feet, could never settle for the rigid and stale qualities of land.

"In the rescuin' business, you can never let the 'motions of others get in the way of your true duty." He assures himself with every retelling. "Yah must be true to yur'self."

So Jack walked away, fingering the bead in his pocket, as the sun of a new day spilled over the horizon, and the shutters of once slumbering windows were tossed open to welcome the light.

"_Right about now, those wild eyes should be a'flutterin' open."_ A thought that comforted the pirate's restless soul.

Whatever happened to Cressida, Jack never knew. In future stops to the port city he never again saw her sitting in the taverns or walking the streets. It was the hopeless romantic in the pirate that always told himself that her captain had come after all. With a distant look in his eye he assures his listener that the captain sensed his love was with another man and felt threatened.

"And rightly so." Jack smirks. "So he came back 'n claimed what was rightly his."

A pirate can hope, right?


End file.
